


Snowstorm

by vcg73



Category: Glee
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Just an odd and unexpected friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not a Romance!, Written Post Season 1, what might have been in another Glee-verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 08:17:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11505357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vcg73/pseuds/vcg73
Summary: When a blizzard hits Lima, Terri Schuester finds herself unexpectedly tasked with looking after a concussed teenager.





	Snowstorm

**Author's Note:**

> Terri Schuester never had a lot of fans, and the show never gave us much opportunity to see anything other than her selfish side, but I always felt like there had to be something more to her. So I decided to put her and Kurt together in a difficult circumstance and see what happened.

**Chapter 1** :

"It's snowing again."

Terri looked up from her inventory sheet, grimacing in exasperation at the worried comment. Howard Bamboo was supposed to be helping her take stock of the remaining bedding after their weekend half-off sale, but instead he was proving even less useful than usual as he stared out the window at the quickly falling white flakes. "Howard, will you please pay attention? We've only got a few more shelves to do and then you can take your break and go play in the snow."

Howard pulled at his lower lip, the plump, puppy-dog features scrunching and twisting as he continued to stare outside. His fingers were also twisting, winding the end of an expensive Egyptian cotton sheet around their stubby tips. Terri reached over and smacked the fretful digits, only for the fidgeting to transfer down to Howard's legs. His knees shifted and bent and crossed back and forth, making him look like a toddler in need of a diaper change.

"Howard," she groaned. "Will you please just get back to work?"

"I'm sorry," he moaned. "But look at it out there. We're all gonna be snowed in. My mom will be worried when I don't come home! And we don't have anything to eat here except the stuff in the vending machines. If the storm doesn't end in a couple of days, we'll begin to starve and people will start considering a lottery and you know cannibals always eat the fat guy first!"

Terri did a face-palm, realizing that the panicky little man was not going to stop whining until she took a look for herself and offered some kind of solid reassurance.

With a gusty sigh, she put down her papers and strode over to the window. Her bored expression immediately melted into concern, big blue eyes widening with shock as she took a good look outside and realized that Howard had not been exaggerating nearly as much as she had assumed.

It had been snowing when she came to work this morning and the weather service had estimated a couple of inches to fall throughout the morning and disappear by noon. Instead, that couple of inches had already transformed into at least a foot of new snow. And this, on top of the refrozen melt-off from the last snowstorm, would almost surely mean an invisible bed of ice underneath.

Terri watched for several minutes but the snow showed no sign of slowing down.

Realizing that it was up to her as store manager to determine whether or not to close down business for the safety of her employees and customers - not that there were many of the latter - Terri strode over to the radio. Shutting off the soft classical station piping through the airwaves, she searched out a weather report. Not a difficult task, given that pretty much every local station was concentrated on the storm.

"… and the front currently bearing down on the northeast region from Canada is expected to bring Lima at least two feet of new snow before nightfall. Local crews are working hard to clear the roads from this unexpected arctic blast, but residents are strongly encouraged to remain in their homes for the duration of the storm."

"And what about those of us who aren't at home, you idiot?" Terri muttered.

The weather reporter did not accommodate her with an answer, instead switching to the traffic team who outlined all the assorted blocks, jams and road hazards currently tying up the local freeways.

The last thing Terri Schuester wanted or needed was to be stuck at Sheets & Things all day with a bunch of whining, fretting, worry-warts. Activating the store intercom, she smiled to inject a pleasant note into her voice as she announced, "May I please have your attention? Due to the severe weather, Sheets & Things will be closing in ten minutes. Please close out your purchases and exit the store in an orderly manner. And please be careful driving home, everyone. It's nasty out there."

Anxious shoppers did not wait to be told twice. Within the first half of the allotted ten minute span, the store was empty.

"All employees report to the office. I'll sign you out and make sure you're paid for the remainder of the day," she said, using the intercom again. "I repeat, please clean up your work stations and report to the office."

She might get in a little trouble from the head office for that decision, but screw it. It wasn't her fault the weather had turned to crap. At least the employees - Howard, Cy, Jenny and herself were the only ones working today – would all be happy.

None of the others wasted any time turning in their time-sheets and fleeing the premises and Terri could not help feeling a bit resentful that nobody had even thought to ask if she was okay with closing up by herself, or if she needed a lift home.

Selfish bastards.

Though, if she were honest with herself, Terri could admit that she was happy to take her sweet time closing as she walked up and down each empty aisle, straightening merchandise and tucking things into order. Anything to avoid going outside.

Snowstorms scared her, which was pretty silly for a woman who had been born and raised in western Ohio, but she had never before been forced to face one all alone. In the past, she had always had someone else to take responsibility and share the experience; first her parents, and then Will.

A pang of painful sorrow stabbed through her at the thought of Will, just as it always did. Her sweet, kind-hearted husband – ex-husband now – would never have allowed her to drive alone in this weather.

Now there was no other option.

A short while later, finished up with locking all of the cash registers and logging in the day's receipts, Terri looked around hopefully for something more to do. Her shoulders slumped as she realized that she had done it all and it was time to go.

Of course, she could simply stay, hole up here and wait. There were worse places to play refugee than a bedding store, but Howard had been right about the lack of food, and Terri knew she would be horribly ashamed if anyone found out that she had been too cowardly to face a little snow.

"Come on, Ter, you can do this," she whispered to herself, bundling into her coat, knitted cap and gloves, taking a deep breath as she opened the door and strode out into the storm.

Wind buffeted her, slicing through the warmth of her clothing and making her shudder as she locked up the doors and reset the alarm. She trudged carefully along the path her fellow employees had cut through the packed snow, grateful when she finally reached the safety of her car. Thank goodness she had bought snow tires this year instead of being forced to figure out tire chains!

Gloved fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard that they ached as Terri slid carefully out of the deserted parking lot and crept along the mostly empty streets. Abandoned and disabled vehicles met her eyes every so often, making her anxiety even worse.

"Almost there, almost there, keep going," she whispered repeatedly to herself as she inched closer and closer to home. Every so often, she would squeak in terror as her traction wobbled on a hidden patch of ice, but she was moving so slowly that she never slid more than a couple of feet before regaining control.

Wide-eyed and terrified, Terri cringed as she passed yet another abandoned vehicle, a big black SUV whose driver had apparently not been as lucky as she and had spun on a patch of ice and hit a pole. If a vehicle like that could not manage this storm, how could she, in her tiny little compact car?

Biting her lip, she resumed her mantra. "Almost there, almost there . . ."

Terri was only about a mile away from her apartment when she saw a bundled figure in dark jeans and a thick blue parka, stumbling their way along the side of the road; fighting to maintain even footing in the thick, heavy drifts. The person roved left and right in a distractingly uneven manner, almost weaving right into the street before managing to correct and continue the uncertain forward progress.

For a moment, Terri thought the pedestrian was drunk, but something about their motion spoke more of disorientation. Remembering the abandoned SUV, she hesitated. She was so close to home and what if this person needed to go somewhere clear across town? Nobody would blame her if she failed to stop, right?

Wrong. Terri sighed. She would blame herself, probably remain worried and guilt ridden all night. After all, what if their positions were reversed and she was the one who needed assistance?

Allowing her car to roll to a complete stop just ahead of the stranger, she rolled down her window and called out, "Hey, are you okay? Do you need some help?"

The walker's hunched posture straightened and he lifted his bent head, allowing the hood of his coat to fall back. Terri gasped. It was a boy, probably not more than fifteen or sixteen years old, with blood coating one side of his face!

He stared at her blankly, blue eyes filled with confusion as if he could not quite decide whether or not she was actually real.

Terri rummaged in her purse for her phone, intending to call 911 for him, but the cell showed no service. Silently cursing the weather, Terri put the car in park and got out, slipping and stumbling on the tamped down snow as she hurried to the boy's side.

"Are you okay?" she asked again, her voice low so as not to startle him. She thought that he looked a little bit familiar but she was not sure. "What's your name?"

"I gotta go home," he mumbled instead of answering the question. "Dad…get worried if I don' come home."

"Who's your dad? Maybe I can call him," she offered, brow wrinkling in frustration when she remembered that she would be unable to keep that promise. "Or, or maybe I should just take you to a hospital. You look like you could use some help."

"No. No, gotta go home," he insisted again.

Not much else seemed to be getting through to him, but he was stubbornly insistent on that point. Pulling easily out of the gentle grip she had taken on his arm, he moved a couple of steps forward before losing his balance and falling hard on his hands and knees.

With a soft cry of alarm, Terri ran to his side and helped him back up. From the torn and bloody knees of his jeans, this was not the first time he had stumbled and not every fall had been broken by soft snow.

"Okay, it's okay, I'll get you home," she said, leading him over to her car and getting him settled in the passenger seat.

The boy shivered from head to toe when the warmth of the still-gushing car heater struck his half-frozen body, tucking his hands into his armpits. He looked small and miserable, and so very cold that it made up Terri's mind. She had no idea where his home was, but she could at least offer him the hospitality of her own.

Yanking a few tissues free from the box she kept in the car, Terri dabbed at the blood on his face, earning a small whine of painful protest. The blood all seemed to be coming from a cut over his eyebrow and she was relieved to realize that the injury was not more severe.

Although, if he had a concussion that was probably pretty serious . . . right? What was the proper treatment for a concussion? Or hypothermia? Or exhaustion? Or whatever else might be wrong with this poor kid. Terri found herself sincerely wishing that she really did have the nurse's training that she had once feigned in an effort to get closer to her husband by invading his place of work.

That thought triggered a memory. When she had worked at the school, she had peeked in on Will's show-choir a few times while dropping by to check on him. That was where she had seen this boy before. He was one of Will's.

Wishing she had paid more attention to all of her ex-husband's enthusiastic babble about these kids, at least enough to recall their names, Terri pressed the wad of tissues against the seeping cut and placed the boy's hand over it. "You hold that there, sweetie. It'll be just a few minutes and we can get you cleaned up properly, okay?"

He nodded, pressing one hand obediently to the make-shift bandage. "Home?" he said hopefully.

"That's right," she agreed, putting the car back in gear and huffing in frustration when the tires simply spun place for a moment before jerking up out of the small indentation the melting snow had caused and rolling forward once again.

Having something new to worry about helped; the anxious eye Terri was keeping on her new passenger distracted her nicely from the fear of becoming road-kill. Before she knew it, she was pulling into the parking garage attached to her own apartment building, a deep sigh of relief escaping as she felt her tires settle onto even ground once more.

"Come with me," she said. "We'll get you dried off and patched up, and we'll call your father so he doesn't worry."

How she was going to do that if he refused to cooperate, she had no idea, but the promise was enough to get the teenager moving. He gasped, limping a bit as they began moving toward the elevator that led up to the apartments, his injured knees having grown stiff in the few minutes he had been allowed to rest.

Terri looped the boy's arm around her neck, making sure his other arm remained free to hold the tissue-wad in place, and helped him along. "Just a little ways now," she coaxed.

A few minutes later, panting with effort, she fumbled her keys out of the purse that had become trapped between their bodies and struggled through the front door. It was a modest apartment. The entire contents would have fit within the living room of the one she had shared with Will, and normally Terri hated that fact. Today, she was simply grateful not to have more than a few steps to walk before she could plunk her charge down on a chair.

The boy was panting a little as well, his youthful features tight with discomfort. Taking in the sight of his injured face and torn trouser-knees, noting that the heels of his hands were also scraped raw, Terri decided that a little medical attention was the first order of business.

Helping him out of his heavy coat and thick cashmere scarf, the portion of Terri's mind not occupied with emergency matters found itself admiring the style of the boy's outfit, the way the green of his scarf perfectly complemented the gold and green sweater he wore with it. A part of her felt embarrassed, his stylish and clearly expensive clothing sharply reminding of her own descent into off-the-rack shopping since the divorce.

Shaking off her musings, she asked, "Do you think you can make it into the bathroom, so we can clean you up a little?"

He nodded, allowing her to lever him back up to his feet; weaving a little as he hobbled into the tiny, white-tiled room she directed him towards.

Terri pondered how best to treat his injuries. The soaking wet black pants fitted absurdly tight against his legs and she knew there was no way she could roll them up to get access to his scraped knees. And yet, it would hardly be appropriate to ask a teenage boy to strip down in front of her, no matter how innocent the reason.

Glancing around the bathroom, she spotted a solution. Her bathrobe was hanging on the back of the door, and while buttercup yellow was probably not any boy's preferred color, at least it would keep this one warm and modest long enough for her to tend him.

"I don't suppose you're ready to tell me your name," she asked hopefully, pulling her limited medical supplies out of the mirrored cabinet over the sink as she set him down to sit on edge of the bathtub. "It would be a lot easier to call someone for you if I knew your name."

Instead of answering, he squeezed his eyes shut, the bloody wad of tissues falling to the floor as he pressed one hand against his forehead and wrapped the other arm around his middle, mumbling, "My head hurts, Mom. I don't feel good."

Terri stared at him, her blue eyes huge and startled at the unexpected address. Her heart clenched tightly at his innocent mistake, suddenly and painfully reminded of the baby she and Will had wanted so badly. A baby, who, thanks to her own deception would now never come to be.

Completely unaware of her difficulties, the boy's eyes opened wide, throat working convulsively. He repeated that same pleading word, "Mom?" and Terri acted just in time, pulling him forward to lean over the toilet just as he lost control of his stomach.

She held his bangs out of his tearing eyes, patting his back gently as the concussed youth coughed and spat. Finally, he slumped back, whimpering at the press of his scraped knees against the hard tile floor.

Rubbing her hand comfortingly across his shoulders, Terri got him a glass of water to rinse out his mouth then helped him back up to sit on the tub again. "It's okay, sweetie. You couldn't help it and now you'll probably start to feel a lot better. Let's just get you fixed up, hmm?"

Working him out of the sweater, which had caught a little dribble of vomit, Terri set it in the sink and helped him pull the bathrobe on over a plain white dress-shirt he had been wearing underneath the sweater. Thankfully, he did not require more than a tug on his belt to get the idea that she also wanted him to remove his trousers, saving her the embarrassment of trying to do it herself.

Terri turned her back while he finished, soaking out the soiled sweater and arranging bandages, antiseptic and ointment in a neat little row on the sink.

When she dared to turn around, Terri smiled. The boy had managed to remove his soaking wet shoes, socks and jeans and belt the robe securely around his waist and there was a little more sense coming into his greenish-blue eyes.

His brow scrunched as he studied her face. "You're not my mom." He rubbed his forehead, shaking his head a little. "No, of course you're not. I-I don't know why I even said that."

A swell of sympathy touched her heart. The poor thing just looked so lost and miserable. "My name is Terri Schuester."

Surprise flickered in his eyes. "Mr. Shue's wife?"

Not bothering to correct him, she said, "That's right. Can you tell me your name?"

"Kurt," he said simply, rubbing his aching head again.

Terri smiled at him. "It's nice to meet you, Kurt. What do you say we get you cleaned up and then find a way to get you home?"

"Okay," he agreed easily.

It only took a few minutes to get his scrapes and gashes cleaned up now that Kurt was cooperating. He was still not overly responsive and the tightness of his mouth suggested that he was struggling not to lose control of himself again, so Terri did not try to force him into a chat.

A powerful shiver overtook the boy's slender frame just as Terri finished applying a large bandage to his wounded left knee. "Why don't you go lie down for a few minutes while I see if my phone is working?"

He nodded. "Thanks, Mrs. Shue."

Terri felt oddly warm at that unexpected little nickname. She knew that all of Will's students referred to him as Shue but she had never had the name extended to her before. Rather than try to get him redressed in his wet clothing, she simply led the boy to her tiny bedroom and tucked him underneath the thick comforter that rested at the foot of her bed.

"You just rest awhile. I'll pop these in the dryer and be right back," she told him.

Part of her hesitated when Kurt's eyelids immediately slid shut. Wasn't it supposed to be a bad thing for concussed people to sleep? Or was it just that you had to wake them up a lot? She bit her lip, studying him doubtfully. Well, maybe it would be okay if she split the difference. Let him get a few minutes rest while she tried to contact some help, then wake him up and keep him talking once that help was on its way.

Yes, that sounded good.

Terri walked back into the main room and looked out the window. Still snowing, possibly even harder than before. Oh dear. What was she going to do if she could not reach anyone? What would either one of them do if her unexpected guest was forced to stay indefinitely?

"Please," she whispered, fishing out her phone again. Yes! There was a signal! Only a couple of bars and the connection seemed to be wavering a bit, but it was better than nothing.

Terri did not hesitate to dial the number most familiar to her heart, praying that he would pick up.

"Terri?" Will's voice was cautious as the line engaged a few moments later, obviously having checked his caller ID.

She breathed a sigh of intense relief. "Oh, Will, thank goodness!"

"Are you okay? You're not out in this storm, are you?"

Terri smiled, touched by his obvious worry. "I just got home, Will. I'm fine but I really need your help with something."

He interrupted, the concern changing to exasperation as he explained that he was snowed in at his own apartment and could not just jump in the car and come over. She could not blame him for acting suspicious. She had tried any number of ploys to convince him to change his mind and forgive her when they had first split up and he probably assumed this was something similar.

"Will, please! Just listen for a minute. I don't know how much longer my phone signal will last and I have one of your students here."

That brought him up short. "What? One of my students? At your apartment?"

She wondered what kind of conclusion he was drawing about that one. "Yes, he says his name is Kurt but I haven't been able to get much more out of him. I found him walking along the side of the road in the snow. I think his vehicle spun out or something. He hit his head and he seems really disoriented."

Deep concern instantly colored Will's voice. "Oh, my God. Is he all right? Did you call an ambulance?"

Feeling guilty, she said, "No, I couldn't get a phone signal until just now and he didn't want a hospital. He wants to go home to his parents."

"Just his dad," he corrected with a deep sigh that crackled over the phone line. "I'm not surprised. The two of them seem pretty close."

Terry felt a stab of pity for the boy in the next room, realizing from Will's wording that the mother must be either dead or out of the picture. No wonder he had looked so ashamed when he had realized his mistake in addressing her.

"Poor thing," she whispered. "I told him I'd try to get him back home but I didn't know where to begin. I don't even know his last name."

"Hummel," Will told her. "Hang on a sec, I'll get you his dad's number. I've got a list here somewhere of all the kids' contact info..."

She could hear the clicking and tapping of computer keys and Will muttering to himself in the background as he searched for the file. Finally she heard a triumphant exclamation and he came back on the line, reading her a phone number that she jotted down on a scrap of paper.

"My car barely made it home but maybe I could try to get a cab over there or something," he suggested and Terri had to smile, albeit a little sadly, at his sudden about-face offer to brave the storm for the sake of one of "his" kids. "It'll probably take awhile, but I-"

"No," she interrupted. "Stay. I'd rather know that you're safe. We'll be fine, Will. I'll just call his father and everything will be okay. Thank you for all your help."

Will's voice was warmer than it had been in quite some time as he said, "Any time. Tell Kurt or his dad to call me, okay?"

Knowing that he would fret and worry until he saw his student safe and sound at school again, she agreed, "Of course. I'd better go while I still have service."

They disconnected and she immediately called the number on the paper. There was no answer, so she hung up and tried again. Luck was still not smiling on her, so this time she left a message with her address, phone number and a brief explanation. After a moment, she realized that she had lost the connection again.

"Please let him have got all that," she murmured to the dead phone.

Knowing that even if he got the message immediately, it would probably be quite some time before Kurt's father arrived, Terri went back to her sleeping guest.

His face was rosy and mottled with wind-burn, nose and lips both a little chapped from the cold, and a colorful bruise was starting to form around his left eye from the gashed eyebrow down to his cheekbone. Both bandaged hands were pulled close to his body, which had scrunched up into a ball as he slept, and she could see that the boy was shivering in spite of the comforter.

"Hey," Terri whispered, shaking him lightly. "I'm sorry but I don't think I can afford to let you sleep any more."

It took a while for him to obey the gentle summons, long enough for a bubble of panic to well up inside Terri's chest. Oh, God, should she have kept him awake this whole time? What if she had given him brain-damage or something by letting him sleep!

Finally, his eyes blinked open and she was relieved to see them focus on her a bit more quickly than the last time. "Mrs. Shue?"

"That's right. Are you okay?"

He nodded, heavy eyelids already sliding closed again.

"No, no please don't go to sleep!" she begged frantically.

A note of definite whining filled his voice as he protested, "Tired."

Terri smiled, unable to help herself. "I know. I'm sorry. I wish I could let you sleep until your dad gets here but you bumped your head pretty hard, so I need you to stay awake, okay?"

His eyes struggled to open wider. "Dad?"

"I left him a message but I don't know how long it will take him to get here in this weather."

"Oh," he said sadly. "Pro'ly busy. Snow tires…"

Not understanding the mumbled words but realizing that she was losing him again, Terri shook the boy's shoulder firmly. "Kurt? Keep talking, okay? Do you remember what happened to you?"

He frowned, flinching as his fingers rose to press briefly against his bruised temple. "School let out early. I was going home. Started to slide … Don't 'member."

"Maybe that's a good thing," she said sympathetically. Certain that he would fall asleep again in seconds if she let him continue reclining, she suggested, "Do you think you can sit up for me?"

He nodded but the moment he had pushed his body fully upright, both of them realized that had been a mistake. Kurt's wind-burned face went dead-pale and his eyes widened. Terri jumped up but before she could even think to grab a garbage can or some other receptacle, the boy lurched forward and vomited for a second time over the side of the bed.

Both of them gasped, Kurt in pained embarrassment and Terri in horrified disgust.

She had really liked those shoes, damn it!

**Chapter 2**

"Oh, no . . . I'm so sorry," he whimpered, covering his mouth with a shaking hand and looking up at Terri's shocked face with tearing eyes. "I didn't mean to!"

Terri gulped, fighting back the urge to start screaming at him. After all, he hadn't known it was going to happen and he had at least managed to spare her bed. It was just bad luck – horribly, wretchedly, revoltingly bad luck – that she had been dumb enough to stand right in the line of fire.

"I know," she grated, doing her best not to look down or breathe in. Terri had always been a sympathy puker. Thank heaven she had been wearing boots - unfortunately cute and fashionable ones - so none of the mess had been able to reach her skin, or else she would have returned the favor for sure. As it was, she had to get herself cleaned up and the area rug he had just ruined had to be disposed of pronto, before she accidentally went all Mt. Vesuvius on her guest. Tightly, she asked, "Could you . . . just go back into the bathroom and wait until I come get you?"

Kurt nodded, right hand remaining as a guard over his mouth while he scooted off the bed, careful to avoid the spoiled rug. Terri's irritation faded a bit as she watched the concussed boy weave uncertainly as he fled from her sight.

As quickly as she could manage, given her unwillingness to actually touch the spoiled footwear, Terri removed her boots and slacks and bundled them into the small bedside rug. Hurrying into a pair of jeans and slippers, she dashed into the kitchen for a garbage bag and a set of rubber kitchen gloves, transporting the messy bundle into the bag and hurrying it out to her small balcony. It wouldn't be pleasant to remove later on, but at least it was out of the house where she wouldn't have to smell it. Burning it was unfortunately not an option, and there was no way she could make it all the way out to the community dumpsters in all this snow.

A powerful gust of wind ripped through her, making Terri shiver from head to toe. The way the temperature was dropping she wouldn't be surprised if the garbage froze. At least it would be less messy to transport that way!

Gathering some paper towels and a bottle of spot cleanser from the kitchen, she returned to her bedroom and scrubbed the now-empty floor next to the bed until everything both looked and smelled fresh again.

Stripping off the gloves inside-out, Terri then put away the cleaner and tossed the gloves in the kitchen garbage. There! Everything was good as new now. No need to panic. Who said Terri Schuester did not know how to handle an emergency?

Humming to herself, she put some freshly ground beans and water into the coffee maker, thinking that a nice warm cup of coffee would be just the thing for such a cold and nasty day. Maybe a grilled-cheese sandwich and some of those little cookies to go with it. After all, she had not had lunch yet and it had been a very trying day.

Why did she feel as if she was forgetting something . . . ?

A small thumping noise caught her ears and Terri gasped. The boy!

Hurrying back and bursting into the small bathroom, she immediately winced at the sight that met her eyes. Poor Kurt was sitting on the closed toilet lid, his body tightly hunched over with one arm wrapped around his ribs, trying to muffle pathetic hitching sobs in the bandaged palm of the other hand.

"Oh, no. Sweetie, I'm sorry I took so long. Please don't do that. Don't cry. I'm sorry!" Terri babbled; crossing over to him and putting out a hand, but then drawing it back again, not sure if he would react well to a touch. "I didn't mean to get mad at you. Really! I was just shocked, that's all. Everything is okay now."

"S-s-sorry," he gulped, shaking his head but not lifting it from his hand. "I c-can't seem to s-stop!"

Feeling pity pour through her, Terri moved closer to him and perched on the lip of the bathtub, daring to pat his shoulder.

"Hey, I understand. I've been there," she said quietly. His eyes finally lifted to meet hers, but there was clear doubt reflected in their watery depths. She smiled at him, allowing honest sympathy to shine through. "Believe me. I know exactly how it feels to be scared and hurting and confused, having no idea what you're supposed to do next or who to turn to for help."

Surprise gleamed in his eyes and he nodded. "N-not to mention freezing and totally embarrassed," he added, struggling to get the words out. Finally, he sighed and rubbed at his eyes, dashing away more tears as he mumbled, "Can't even believe that happened again."

"Again?"

Bright color instantly suffused his round cheeks. "Um, last year . . . school . . . I-I sort of got drunk . . . and I puked on Miss Pillsbury."

A startled laugh burst from her lips at those shamefully whispered words.

Kurt frowned; confused by the reaction, and suddenly Terri no longer cared about the ruined shoes, the soiled area rug, the fear and worry, and the trouble this boy might still put her through. He had avenged her against Will's red-headed trollop and for that, she could forgive him anything.

"Would you like to take a hot bath?" she offered warmly. "I'm sorry I don't have a shower, but there's plenty of bubble bath if you like to use some, and I'll see about finding you some different clothes. I still have a box of Will's old things that accidentally moved with me when we separated. And if your stomach feels up to it, I could fix you some hot soup and crackers!"

Kurt looked completely baffled by her sudden shift in mood. He squinted one eye shut; face scrunching as he studied her smiling face through the other eye, clearly trying to make up his mind if the problem was with her or with his own confused brain.

"Yes, please," he said finally, giving up the battle as another hard shiver overtook his body. He picked at the tape and gauze fastened to his right knee. "If you don't mind."

"Oh, I can redo those bandages in two seconds! After all, I'm a nurse!"

Looking doubtful, he blurted, "Really?"

Terri blushed. She remembered the speed of gossip at a public high school. If even one student had found out about her lack of credentials for playing school-nurse at McKinley, the entire student body would have known by the end of the day.

"No . . . not really. But I've treated injuries for my nephews plenty of times. There are three of them and they're always getting into trouble and needing medical help." She frowned, thinking about Kendra's insanely rambunctious trio of redheaded sons. "Like . . . a lot."

The boy smiled, the first one Terri had seen on his face and she felt herself smiling in response. "My dad used to threaten to buy stock in Band-Aids." The smile dropped away, replaced with an anxious expression as he rubbed one temple with the pads of his fingers. "I can't remember. Did . . . did you say my dad was coming? Will he be here soon?"

Terri sighed. She was glad to hear her young guest making more sense now that he was fully awake and starting to regain his emotional equilibrium but it was clear that he was still a bit confused. And he clearly still had only one thing on his mind.

"I didn't actually speak to him," she admitted. "I just left a message on his answering machine and then my phone service was interrupted."

"Oh." He considered this. "Maybe I could try."

Terri's brow wrinkled into a frown, only then realizing, "I didn't see a phone. Or a wallet, or even car keys!" She had put his jeans and other wet clothes into the lower half of the tiny stackable washer/dryer in her kitchen before making her calls and she was sure there had been nothing in the pockets. "Maybe they're in your coat?"

"Putting stuff in the pockets ruins the lines," he objected automatically.

"Then where else . . ." Terri gasped. "Oh! Were you mugged? Is that how you hurt your head? Who would do that to a poor little boy caught out in a snowstorm? I should have called the police instead of talking to Will! The thieves could still be out there, robbing other boys and girls! They could have stolen my car when I stopped to help you! My goodness!"

Kurt inched away as she started to ramble, shoulders striking the wall next to the toilet and halting the instinctive movement. His big blue eyes held that unfortunate 'back away from the crazy person' look that a lot of people seemed to develop around Terri for some reason. Kendra got it even more. They never had figured out why . . .

"Um . . . maybe I left my bag in the car?" the boy interrupted when she stopped to take a breath. "I wasn't really thinking straight."

"Oh . . . right," she said. That made a lot more sense.

Kurt nibbled his lip anxiously as a new thought occurred to him. "Hope I didn't leave the engine running." Worry darkened his eyes. "What if Dad calls me before he gets your message? If he can't reach me . . ."

"Then he'll check his messages and come here," she said confidently, deciding to keep to herself that she was not sure how much of her message had actually made it into the answering machine. That was one extra worry this poor kid did not need right now.

To distract him, she turned and twisted the knobs to get water flowing into the bathtub. "This may take a couple of minutes to heat up. The bottles of bubble bath are in that cabinet under the sink. I have jasmine, lilac and orange-honeysuckle. Do you need help getting into the tub?"

His eyes went wide, fingers clenching convulsively around the lapels of his borrowed bathrobe. "No!" he squeaked, then coughed a little in embarrassment as he amended in a slightly lower voice, "I mean, I'm fine."

Terri doubted that claim but let it go, more than happy to take his words at face value. After all, there was being a Good Samaritan and then there was being a Cougar, and that was not a line she was looking to cross!

Noticing that the boy was squinting against the stark lighting in the bright-white bathroom, she asked gently, "Is your headache getting worse? Would you like some Tylenol?"

"Yes, please," he agreed instantly, the relief in his voice giving her a good idea just how badly he must be hurting.

Terri pulled the drain-plug closed to let the tub begin to fill and rose to rummage in the medicine cabinet. She administered two headache tablets with a glass of water, then gestured to the cabinet under the sink. "Any preference on the bubbles?"

Kurt had not actually stated willingness to use any of the floral scented bubble-baths, but Terri wanted a nice thick coat of foam standing between them if any more emergencies arose. Kurt apparently concurred, for he said, "Honeysuckle sounds okay."

**Chapter 3:**

Hummel Tires & Lube had been a madhouse all day, the severity of the winter storm catching many drivers off guard and prompting a rush to equip their vehicles with chains and studded tires. Snowstorms were not good for business in most places, but for a tire shop, it was better than Christmas.

Burt Hummel had completely run out of supplies by eleven a.m. but he and his two assistant mechanics had been scrambling to service all of the customers who kept flooding in. It seemed like a lot of people already owned traction devices but had never bothered learning how to put them on.

He would have laughed at their foolishness if he'd had the time.

The morning had been so busy that Burt had barely had time to think about his son but now that everything was finally slowing down, he realized that he had not heard from Kurt, and it worried him.

The snow had been accumulating high and fast throughout the morning, making the roads difficult to navigate. Surely the high school would have had sense enough to let everyone get an early start towards home. Even if they didn't, Kurt knew the drill. In an emergency, he was supposed to call and let his father know where he was and that he was safe.

Burt checked his messages and found a couple of missed calls from his son's cell number, placed during the middle of the morning rush when there had probably been too much noise in the shop for anyone to have heard the phone ringing. No messages.

He called the school, only to receive a recording informing him that due to the severe weather, all schools in the Allen County district had been closed for the day. Next, Burt dialed his own home phone number. Three tries, no response. He called Kurt's cell every few minutes, only to repeatedly receive the familiar, cheerful chirp of, "Sorry I missed you. You know what to do!"

Growing increasingly worried, he tried Carole Hudson, who told him that Finn had reached home well over an hour ago but that neither of them had heard from Kurt. She checked with her son, who agreed that he had seen Kurt pulling out of the McKinley parking lot with Mercedes. Finn and Rachel had each caught a ride with Puck, whose ATV could handle snowy days much better than their own cars. Carole tried to calm him, suggesting that perhaps Kurt had decided to wait out the blast at his best friend's house, which was a lot closer to school than the Hummel residence.

"Thanks, Carole. I'll try that next." Burt hung up the phone and sighed. He appreciated the attempt at reassurance but knew that he would not relax until he found Kurt safe and sound. Praying hard, he looked up Mercedes Jones' phone number on the contact list Kurt had helpfully programmed into his cellular phone, and pressed Send.

Mercedes answered on the second ring. Immediately concerned by his questions, she revealed that Kurt had dropped her off at home well over an hour ago but had refused her offer to come inside on the grounds that he needed to go straight home.

"Thanks, Mercedes," he said, attempting to sound calm. "He's probably just having trouble getting through on his cell. Service problems seem to be happening all over the place today. Do me a favor and tell him to call me right away if you hear from him, okay?"

She agreed immediately, saying she would send him a text and an email just in case Kurt was home and did not realize that his calls were being dropped. Burt could tell that he had worried the girl and he felt a little guilty. After all, what if Kurt was safe and sound at home and all this panic was for nothing? Still, he could not help but feel glad that Mercedes was in the loop. She was a very determined girl and would undoubtedly put out a network of phone calls to all the rest of Kurt's friends faster than he could even manage to look up one of their numbers. The more people who were looking for his son, the faster he would be found and the faster Burt could relax.

Seriously considering whether it would be completely jumping the gun to start calling local hospitals, Burt stared at his silent phone, muttering, "Where are you, Kurt?"

To his surprise, one of the mechanics called out, "Hey, Burt! You got a message on the machine. I think it's about Kurt!"

Mentally ripping himself a new one for not having thought to check the garage answering machine, Burt jogged toward the office at the back of the shop. Sure enough, the message light was on. He snatched the receiver from Jesse's hand and restarted the message cycle. The first two were just customer inquiries and he skipped past them quickly. The third message had him frowning in worry. It was all crackly and broken up, as if the speaker's phone signal had been cutting in and out.

"…name is *** Terri Sch***phone number is 419-2***. Your son *** accident. ***he seemed a bit confused *** head pretty hard but ***my house and ***be okay. ***no vehicle, I was hoping you come get*** Street, Apartment***B."

And that was all there was. Burt listened to the message five times, writing out all the information he could gather but he finally had to accept that there just wasn't enough there. All he knew for sure was that Kurt had been in an accident of some kind. And, oh God, didn't that just tie his gut into knots! Was the boy hurt badly? It sounded like he must have cracked his head or something, but the lady on the phone hadn't sounded panicked, just concerned, and Burt was guessing that the rest of the message meant that she had taken Kurt home with her.

Maddeningly, there just hadn't been enough information in the broken-up message to figure out where that home might be. The phone number had been less than useless. All that told him was that they were somewhere in a Lima area code!

Burt sighed loudly, frustrated and frightened. His baby boy was out there somewhere, hurt and needing his father. He could not just stick around here and wait!

Except . . . what choice did he have?

~#~#~#~#~#~

Will Schuester stared out the window of his apartment at the frozen landscape, marveling at the beauty of the deep drifts of untouched white that so thoroughly disguised the identity of cars, bushes, garbage cans and the assorted detritus of a busy street. The thick white flakes continued to fall fast, filling in a few stray sets of footprints left by pedestrians making their way back and forth. He sipped a mug of hot coffee, wondering how everyone had fared getting home in this storm.

He thought about the call from Terri. It had made him feel good to know that she still trusted him to provide help during an emergency, but he was now very worried about Kurt. Had the poor kid been hurt badly? Terri had said that Kurt was disoriented and banged up; making him wish that he could jump in his beat up old car and drive over there to make sure everything was okay. He felt an almost parental protectiveness toward all of his Glee students and Kurt Hummel was such an independent, tough little fellow that the very idea of him wandering out in this storm lost and confused and hurt was almost physically painful for Will.

Maybe he should try. His car would never make it past the end of the block in this storm, but surely there were other options. Taxis? Busses? Only . . . what if he finally got all the way out there, and there was no doubt it would take a very long time to reach his destination, only to discover that Burt Hummel had long since come and gone? He would be stuck with Terri for the rest of the day, maybe even overnight, and that would just be an uncomfortable situation for both of them.

"Maybe I'll just give Terri a call back and see how things are going," he murmured. Yes, that was a sensible option and it would make it much easier for him to decide what to do. He picked up his phone and dialed, sighing when he got a 'We're sorry, the number you have dialed is currently out of service range. Please hang up and try again.'

"Damn it!" he whispered. Glancing at the clock, he wondered whether it would be a good idea to call Mr. Hummel for an update. No, probably not. The roads were a disaster today. If the man was still trying to get to Kurt, he would not appreciate a well-meaning distraction just to satisfying Will's curiosity. And if he had succeeded in reaching his son, he would almost certainly be too busy looking after Kurt to stop and give progress reports.

Will sighed. He needed to quell his own impatience and give the Hummels another couple of hours to get settled. Then surely it would be okay to give them a call.

He could wait that long.

**Chapter 4:**

Terri had left the bathroom door cracked while she searched out some replacement clothes for Kurt. His own were out of the question. They had finished drying but the sweater still carried an unpleasant whiff of vomit and she had made the mistake of putting the dryer on High, so it would take a considerable amount of work for the boy to struggle back into the shrunken black denim jeans, if he could do so at all, given how tight they had been from the start. It would take an effort she was absolutely sure that Kurt was not in any shape to attempt, assuming he was even willing to wear pants with ripped out knees in the first place.

The left side of Kurt's shirt collar had been discolored by the rivulets of blood that had run down his face, bringing a thoroughly dismayed expression to the boy's face when he had noticed the stains in the mirror. Terri had been surprised that he seemed more upset about the shirt than he was about the damage to his face, until he had explained that bruises healed while dried blood was all but impossible to wash out of Italian blend dress shirts.

It bothered her a little how casually he had stated that fact. As if he knew a great deal about both.

It was for this reason that Terri took her time sifting through her ex-husband's old things. She had stored the box in the bottom of her small closet, part of her unwilling to part with this one last tangible piece of the life she and Will had shared. The box dated back to Will's college days, which was probably why he had never mentioned that it was missing. He most likely assumed that this box had been thrown away years ago.

The clothing inside was old and some pieces were painfully out of date, something Terri suspected would bother her young guest if she could use his own clothing as a clue. She found herself wanting to cheer Kurt up, but unfortunately, it appeared that lifting his somber mood would have to be done in some other way. Will had just never been a fancy dresser.

"I guess these will have to do," she mused, pulling out a pair of faded blue jeans and a scarlet and gray Ohio State sweatshirt. They would probably be too big. Will was not that much taller than Kurt, but even at the age of 20 he had been broad-shouldered and muscular. She paused for a moment, closing her eyes and smiling as she remembered how easily the sight of that handsome young man had been able to take her breath away. How easily he still could.

The sound of splashing caught her ear, drawing Terri's attention to the bathroom. There was more splashing, followed by a painful grunt, a muffled curse and a deep sigh that echoed off the bathroom tiles, clearly audible in the next room. "Are you okay in there?" she called, standing up. "Is it safe for me to come in?"

There was a long pause before Kurt replied, with embarrassment coloring every word, "I'm having a little trouble getting out of the tub."

"Oh." She bit her lip. It wasn't really surprising. Her bathtub was deep and rounded; it was the entire reason she had chosen this apartment over any of the others she had visited, even though the rent was entirely too high for such a tiny space. Between the bubble-slick surface of the tub and muscles that had to be tired, achy and newly relaxed by the hot steamy water, it would indeed be difficult to get out of. "Don't move. I'll come help you."

Thankfully there were still plenty of frothy, fragrant bubbles to protect Kurt's modesty but the poor kid looked as if he would prefer to just sink below the surface and drown himself when she bent close and ordered him to put an arm around her neck.

Grabbing a towel off the rack next to the bathtub, Terri straightened up slowly, keeping her eyes on the boy's blushing face as he got his legs under him and stood. Wrapping the towel around his hips, she held on until both of his feet were firmly planted on the rug next to the tub and he was securely seated on the edge.

"Thanks, Mrs. Shue," he mumbled. "I'm sorry to be so much trouble."

"It's no trouble," she said kindly, dashing wet bangs out of his eyes. "I'm glad I could . . . oh, my goodness!"

Her startled gasp made him look down at his body. The pale skin was marred by multicolored bruises in a diagonal pattern from his left shoulder to his right hip, with more across his stomach area. Deeper bruising fanned out over the bony hip joint peeking above the edge of the borrowed towel. Kurt's fingers skimmed the pattern self-consciously. "Seatbelt, I think. The buckle hits me right here," he added, wincing as he pressed against the pattern on his hip

Terri's lip trembled and tears spilled down her cheeks. It had never even occurred to her to check under his clothes! What if he had internal injuries or something? Was he going to drop dead because she had failed to check more thoroughly? And how about all the other things she had done wrong . . . let him nap with a concussion, made him throw up by pushing him to sit up too fast, forgetting all about him when he needed her?

Oh God, she was a total failure as a nurse and a babysitter. She would have been such a horrible mother. No wonder Will had dumped her!

"No, no please don't cry! It's okay, it's just bruises," he assured her, unconsciously echoing Terri's earlier efforts at comforting him as he awkwardly patted her on the shoulder, his expression filled with dismay at the sight of her tears. "I'm fine, honest!"

Terri snuffled, reaching for a tissue to dab her eyes and blow her nose. She knew better. Bruised, concussed, visibly trembling with fatigue, gashes and scratches glaring accusingly at her, this boy was anything but fine. And while she had not been the one to hurt him, she had a terrible certainty that she had not done very much to help, either.

"I wish I knew what to do for you," she whispered.

"You're doing it," he told her, blue eyes bright and earnest. "If it wasn't for you, I'd probably be a popsicle by now."

She laughed a little at the solemnity with which he said such a silly thing, then sighed and shook her head. "No, I should have just taken you straight to a hospital."

"I'm glad you didn't. There'd be a ton of people there. My dad wouldn't know where I was and I'd probably still be in a waiting room, seeping blood all over my Versace."

Kurt suddenly shivered and she was not sure if it was a reaction to the conversation or to sitting around wearing nothing but a bath towel. Either way, the shiver shook Terri out of her moment of self-pity. "Let's get you dressed and go find you something to eat," she suggested. "If you feel up to food, that is."

He pondered the question, rubbing a hand over his stomach. "I think I do. But . . . I still feel kind of dizzy and my head won't stop aching, so it might be smart to keep a bucket handy."

Kurt's balance was still wobbly but he managed to pull his underwear back on underneath the towel, flat-out refusing Terri's suggestion of the cotton boxers she had found among the other items in Will's clothing box. They could have been washed to a state of pristine purity and not worn for over a decade, but they had once belonged to Mr. Schuester and wearing your teacher's underwear was just plain creepy, no matter how you spun it.

Fortunately, he did not feel the same way about outside clothes, accepting the jeans and sweatshirt gratefully once Terri had retreated and applied fresh bandages to his knees. As she had predicted, the clothes hung baggily on his narrow frame, but they fit reasonably well and they were warm and comfortable. Under the circumstances, that was all anyone could ask for.

Terri tried the phone again while Kurt sat in her kitchenette, slowly and gingerly eating his way through a bowl of hot tomato soup and tiny goldfish crackers. She did not have a formal dining room and positioning him near the sink had seemed like a good idea, just in case.

Cell reception was still going in and out, making Terri doubt that she could get a coherent call through to anyone. There were no voicemails. Terri resisted the urge to throw the phone against the wall and scream in frustration. She knew she should not have opted for the cheapest one she could find – Kendra's youngest had managed to get jelly all over the inside of the last one – but money had been tight that month and it had not seemed like that big of a deal.

Ironically, she had been unable to afford a good phone because she had already spent most of her paycheck on that very same pair of cute designer boots that now lay in ruins out on the frozen balcony. Kurt Hummel was apparently a big believer in Karmic justice, even when he had no idea that he had enacted it.

When she returned to the kitchen, Terri found the boy in question staring blankly up at the big happy-face clock that hung on the wall over the stove, a spoonful of soup hovering halfway between the bowl and his mouth.

"Is something wrong?"

Kurt jumped, dropping the spoon and splashing a few droplets of the liquid onto his borrowed shirt. He blushed, dabbing the stain away with a napkin. "Sorry. Just . . . it's almost two o'clock. I've been here kind of a long time, haven't I?"

It was not hard to decipher what he really wanted to ask. "Well, I haven't heard back from your dad yet but you did say he was busy working, right? Maybe he just hasn't had time to check his messages yet."

The boy abandoned his lunch, sitting back and wrapping both arms around his ribs as he shook his head in denial. "No. Even if he's still busy, he would have checked on me by now. What if he didn't get your message?" Big worried blue eyes fastened on Terri's face, seeking reassurance. "What if he doesn't know I'm safe? Or, what if he did get the message but something happened to him on his way here? I remember seeing a few wrecks. What if-"

"Hey, don't think like that. I'm sure everything will be just fine," she told him gently, sliding her arm around his shoulders and giving them a supportive squeeze in an attempt to distract him from his growing hysteria.

Terri wished she could offer more solid reassurance. She wanted to say that Kurt's father would be here any minute, or that she would take him home herself, or that the weather would clear right up if they just waited awhile, but she could not say any of those things. It had been well over an hour since she had left that message and she did not know if it had gone through. She had looked out the window several times only to find that the weather had grown even worse, snow whirling and blowing against the window in great fat flakes that were piling up and burying the cars in the street below. Even if her car had been designed for travelling over rough snowy terrain, she was just not a secure enough driver to manage it, especially not with an injured boy and an unfamiliar destination.

There was nothing they could do except wait, and hope.

Kurt seemed to understand. He tipped his head sideways to rest against her chest in a silent bid for comfort and Terri smiled, tightening her grip around his shoulders and stroking his hair with her other hand. "Everything will be just fine."

"So tired," he mumbled after a while. "Think I could lie down for awhile? I won't throw up again; promise."

Wondering exactly how he planned on keeping that promise, Terri kissed the top of his head. "I'm not sure whether or not I should let you lie down," she admitted. "Do you think maybe you could just sit on the couch instead?"

"'Kay," he agreed drowsily. Terri could tell she was already losing him. Trying to forbid him from taking a nap would be a losing battle.

Well, she had not killed him the first time. Maybe it would not hurt anything if she allowed him to rest.

Grabbing her phone off the table, she pulled Kurt to his feet and led him out to the living room sofa where he could watch the beautiful, if dangerous, snow storm blowing outside the window. She left him long enough to grab the comforter and a novel from her bedroom, then curled up next to him, covering them both with the warm blanket.

Kurt did not seem to object to this, and when Terri put her arm around his shoulders again, he simply shifted his position so that he could rest his head on her shoulder. She could hear the smile in his voice when he teased, "Read me a bedtime story?"

Terri turned the cover of her book so that he could see the couple portrayed in the drawing. A beautiful auburn-haired woman, complete with heaving bosom, clutching the thigh of a ridiculously handsome, dark-haired man in riding pants; an open shirt revealing his rippling pecs and abs. It looked like a cliché of every romance novel ever written. "Wrong kind of bedtime story, I'm afraid."

"Not if the hero looks like him, it's not."

Terri looked at him in surprise and Kurt blushed, nodding his head a little.

"Oh," she said. "I hadn't realized."

She considered this new revelation for a moment, feeling silly for not having picked up the subtle clues he had been throwing her: the pretty clothes; the lack of macho posturing over her suggestion of bubble-bath; the fact that he had not freaked out over being nearly nude in the presence of an older but still-very-attractive woman; the innocent cuddling they were doing now.

Kendra would have pitched an absolute fit, probably shoving the boy to the other side of the sofa and sitting as far away from him as possible. Luckily, a decade spent in the company of a socially tolerant, musical-loving boyfriend/husband had introduced Terri to a wide range of people and cured her of many of the narrow-minded convictions she had grown up with.

Snuggling down a little more comfortably, she asked, "Should I start at the beginning or skip to one of the juicy parts?"

Kurt breathed a soft sigh of relief, and Terri could feel the tension fading from his shoulders. "Wherever you left off is fine."

Terri's soft, smooth voice filled the air, spinning the tale of Lawrence and Gwendolyn and their torrid tale of bitter jealousy and hatred – thought it seemed like they had an awful lot of sex for two people who supposedly loathed each other – while Kurt rested against her shoulder, offering an occasional wry comment or appreciative noise to enhance the narrative.

Outside, the snow continued to fall.

**Chapter 5:**

Burt had managed to hold his impatience in check for an hour but when no more calls about Kurt came through, and a second call to Mercedes revealed that none of Kurt's other friends had heard from him either, he could not take it anymore.

"I'm going out there," he said bluntly.

Jesse tried to stop him. "Burt, that's nuts! What if Kurt calls? You heard that lady on the message. He's inside somewhere, safe from the storm. What good's it going to do for you to go out in this shit? I mean, c'mon, are you figuring on stopping at every apartment building in Lima to ask if they happen to have a Terri S living there?"

"Not a bad idea," he snapped back, irritated by the lack of support. He knew his friend meant well but Jesse wasn't a father. He just did not understand. "It's better than waiting around doing nothing! You stay here. If anybody calls, just give me a buzz on my cell. I'm going to start at the school and work my way towards home. Maybe I'll get lucky."

The mechanic sighed deeply, knowing that tone all too well. Burt's mind was made up and there was no point in arguing with him. "Fine, but if you fall down and bust your ass out there, don't expect me to be the one to explain to Kurt why his father is in traction!"

Squeezing his shoulder at the mild joke, knowing it for the good-luck wish that it was, Burt smiled tightly. "Thanks, Jess."

"Just . . . find the little squirt, okay?"

He nodded, recognizing that his friend was also deeply worried about the boy he had known since Kurt was an unusually fashionable 4th grader.

Burt's 4x4 was well equipped for snow, with the best snow tires and traction balancing equipment on the market. He occasionally received some mocking from his son for the ugly, faded paintjob and the fact that the truck was nearly as old as Kurt, but he had never found a better vehicle for driving in heavy winter weather.

Wrapping himself up well in coat, cap, gloves and muffler, he pulled out of the garage and started out on what he strongly suspected would be a long and fruitless waste of time.

But at least he wasn't sitting around doing nothing.

~#~#~#~#~#~

Will had tried Terri's phone 3 more times but had no more luck than the first. He finally had called the number on his contact list for Kurt's dad, unable to take the suspense any more, but that line had also proven to be a no-go.

Knowing that he was stuck inside his small apartment with nothing to do but worry was making Will stir-crazy. He decided to check on his other students, just to make sure the rest of them had not experienced the same difficulties as Kurt.

Mostly he spoke with parents, relieved to hear that the kids had arrived safely, holed up in their respective rooms or out playing in the snow with siblings. He did not speak with any of the kids themselves until he called Mercedes. She answered on the first ring, barely taking the time to say hello before anxiously asking if he'd heard anything about Kurt.

"Wait, what about Kurt? Did something else happen after his dad went to pick him up?"

There was a pause, confusion filling the short silence, then Mercedes asked him what he was talking about, explaining that Kurt had driven himself towards home but never reached it. His father had received a partial message at his garage saying that Kurt was hurt, but nobody knew where he was or how badly he was injured.

"Oh, my God," Will groaned. How could he have been so careless as to assume that Terri had reached Burt Hummel when he knew full well that her phone was not working properly? "I know where he is. I need to call his dad right away."

Mercedes eagerly pressed for details but Shue put her off with a repeat of his need to call Burt Hummel. Not happy but understanding and agreeing that Kurt and his dad had to come first, Mercedes helpfully provided Burt's cell number.

Extracting a stern promise to call her back with details as soon as possible, Mercedes let him go, saying she would give the rest of the Glee kids an update.

Caught between guilt for his own short-sightedness and irritation that nobody had thought to include him in this inter-glee web of texting, Will drew a deep breath and punched in the new cell number.

~#~#~#~#~#~

Burt felt as if his heart was crumbling in his chest. He had only gotten about half way to the high school, his intended starting point, when he had seen it. A huge SUV, covered in snow and resting crookedly on the side of the road with its front left fender crunched against a utility pole. He did not know what made him so certain that it was Kurt's Navigator; he could not even see enough of the vehicle under its coat of white to make out the real color, but he was.

Parking safely a few feet in front of the SUV, Burt jumped out of his own truck and plunged through the snow. Logically, he knew that his son was not inside but he could not stop himself from calling anyway. "Kurt! Kurt, are you there?"

The driver's side door was standing open. Snow was piled up in the foot well, on the driver's seat and along the inside of the door. As Burt checked the inside of the empty vehicle he found Kurt's messenger bag in the floor of the passenger seat, where it appeared to have slid when the vehicle impacted with the pole.

Burt's stomach clenched when he suddenly realized that the airbags had not deployed. There was a circular impact crack on the driver's side window and as he gently blew away some of the gathered snow he felt tears gather in his eyes. There was blood on the glass.

When Burt leaned over the snowy seat to pull his son's bag out of the foot well, he noticed Kurt's phone lying next to it, having popped out of the small pocket meant to house it. Checking the display, he sighed. Eighteen missed calls and at least a dozen unread text messages. A number of those calls were from his own number but an equal amount were from Mercedes, Finn and other worried friends. Somehow, that only made him feel worse.

As Burt looked over the car, hoping for any tiny clue that might indicate where his son had headed after leaving, he realized that the key was still in the ignition. The engine was dead, indicating that the car must have been left running until the battery finally ran out. Kurt had hit his head and then wandered off without turning off the vehicle, grabbing his possessions or even remembering his phone. The knowledge turned Burt's blood to ice.

"God, Kurt, where are you?" he whispered. "Please be okay!"

Burt gathered his son's possessions and returned to his truck, but then he simply stood there. Where should he go next? Concussed and confused, Kurt could have wandered off in any direction and the ever deepening snow made the possibility of finding tracks completely hopeless. All he knew for sure was that at some point, Kurt had run into the mysterious Terri S who had decided to take him somewhere where she could call for help.

"Think, Hummel!" he ordered himself in a hiss. Kurt had been coherent enough to give the woman his number, right? Otherwise, how could she have known where to call? Yet, for some reason Kurt had not been able to place that call himself, arguing that perhaps he had been hurt pretty bad. Not so bad that the woman had called an ambulance, though. Burt felt a surge or irrational rage toward the unknown helper. What kind of a moron discovered a bloody, confused, presumably injured kid wandering alone through the streets and didn't think to call for medical help?

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. The woman's phone reception had been crap. Maybe she could not get through, or the emergency lines had all been tied up or something. The latter seemed fairly likely considering all the major accidents his radio had been reporting all morning long. Okay, so maybe she had done all she could under the circumstances. Maybe.

That still did not tell him where to start looking.

Kicking the tire of his truck so hard he damn near broke his foot off, Burt screamed, "Fuck!" Glaring up past the snowflakes to the gray sullen clouds overhead, he jabbed a finger skyward. "Listen, you! I know we haven't been on speaking terms much these last nine years but I need some help here! Help me find my boy, Kurt, or so help me, I'll . . ."

How exactly he could threaten a supreme being he was not even all that sure was really up there, Burt did not know. Fortunately, he did not have time to come up with anything creative. The ringing of his phone interrupted the rant.

Eagerly fumbling the item out of his jacket, he looked at the display and frowned, not recognizing the number. "Hummel," he answered sharply, already planning to rip the caller a new one if it turned out to be a salesman or something.

"Mr. Hummel, it's Will Schuester," the man said. "Kurt's glee-club advisor."

"I know who you are," he snapped. "Look, I'm sorry but this isn't a good time. My son is . . ."

Schuester burst forward, interrupting. "I know! I just talked to Mercedes, that's why I called. Kurt is at my ex-wife Terri's house."

Terri . . . Terri Sch-something . . . "Schuester," he said out loud, sinking to his knees in the deep snow. "Where," he stopped to clear his throat as the word came out little more than a croak.

Fortunately, Will seemed to understand. "Are you anywhere near Lake Ridge drive?"

Burt paused to consider. The street signs were pretty much impossible to read today, but he had lived in Lima his entire life. "Mile and a half or so," he estimated.

"Terri lives just off of Lake Ridge, on Taylor. Those new apartments they built last year?"

"I know them," he agreed, hope filling him with strength as he struggled to get up off his knees, brushing away the snow as he climbed up into his truck and put it in gear. "Yeah, I know right where they are."

Will gave a sigh of what sounded like extreme relief. "Go to apartment 24B. Terri called me just before her phone went out and she told me Kurt was there with her. I'm sorry I didn't let you know sooner but she said she was going to call and tell you, and I thought . . . God, I am so sorry!"

Tempted to scream out all of his frustration in a tirade so powerful that it would have the mild mannered chorus teacher weeping and wetting himself within minutes, Burt forced himself to stay calm, "Don't apologize. You couldn't have known. Did she say anything else? Do you know if Kurt was hurt bad? I found his car and it looks like he struck his head. There was . . ." he gulped, barely able to say the word past the sudden lump in his throat, "blood."

"I don't know," Will said apologetically. "Terri said he seemed disoriented but refused to go to the hospital. Apparently he insisted on going home but she didn't know where that was, so she took him to her place and called me instead. If I had only realized . . . "

Cutting off yet another attempt by the teacher to apologize for not being omniscient, Burt said, "Schuester, what matters is that I get to Kurt now. I . . . thanks for calling. I owe you one."

"I'll settle for a call-back letting me know Kurt is okay," he said, so sincerely that Burt felt his irritation with the man easing. Schuester was kind of an ass; something about his always positive, 'anything to please' manner tended to rub Burt the wrong way, but Kurt respected the guy and Schuester really did seem to care a lot about the kids; about Kurt.

"Will do," he said shortly, hanging up the call quickly as his truck skidded a bit on a deep rut of hard frozen snow where some heavier vehicle had apparently passed and tamped it down slick. He needed to pay more attention to where he was going. It wouldn't do Kurt a hell of a lot of good if his dad came within a mile of rescuing him only to drive off the road and get himself killed!

"I'm coming, son," he whispered. "You just hold tight. I'm coming.

**Chapter 6:**

The tawdry novel had managed to keep Kurt awake for the better part of an hour, until Terri's voice became tired and she had to stop reading. As she set the book aside, Kurt sighed. "I should move," he said, making no effort to actually do so.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Mm hm," he murmured lightly.

She pressed her head against his. "Then stay. I'm fine."

"'Kay," he agreed, obviously more than asleep than awake. Shifting his head to look out the window, he went quiet for a couple of minutes as they stared together at the whirl of white flakes blowing past. "I hope my dad is someplace safe. Wish I could call him. He worries about me a lot, even on normal days. He must be going out of his mind by now. "

The sadness in his voice tore at Terri's heart. She and Will might not be together anymore but at least she knew that he was safe at home, and he knew the same about her. "Sounds like you guys must be pretty close, hmm?"

The boy nodded against her shoulder. "It's been just the two of us ever since I was seven years old. We look out for each other."

Terri smiled. "I'll bet you do." She sighed wistfully. "Sometimes, I really miss having someone to look out for."

Kurt's eyes tilted up, trying to see her face. "Mr. Shue?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "We were really good for each other, once. Do you know he was the first person I even thought about calling when I needed help today? Partly, I recognized you as one of his show-choir kids and wanted to find out if he could help me figure out where you belonged, but mostly it was because . . ."

"You miss him?" he guessed, then nodded. "I understand. He's the kind of person another person would miss. I think that one day when I graduate high school and leave Lima behind, Mr. Shue is one of the people I'll miss most. Even though he never gives me any solos."

She laughed at the grumbled little end comment. "Let me guess. He gives them all to Finn, right?"

Kurt lifted his head, looking at her in surprise. "You know Finn?"

"He and his friend Noah worked at Sheet & Things for awhile last year. I was their supervisor."

"Oh . . . I forgot. How did you know Mr. Schuester gives all the songs to Finn? Did he tell you about that?"

He looked puzzled and Terri chuckled at the expression. "No, but I know Will. He's a very fair and good hearted man, but he's always had a weak spot for kids who remind him of himself. He wants every student to have as great a high school experience as the two of us did, but he can be a little blind sometimes."

The boy snorted before he could stop himself, looking a bit embarrassed when she fixed questioning eyes on his face. "Sorry. Let's just say . . . more than a little."

Terri was tempted to press for more, not because she really cared about all the ups and downs of high school but because this boy saw Will every day and it made her feel closer to her ex-husband to hear about his daily life. Then, Kurt laid his head back down tiredly and she decided to let it go.

It was difficult to say how much time passed while they sat together on the sofa, watching the weather and thinking private individual thoughts. Terri was musing about how nice this was, just the two of them all alone in the vast world of white, when Kurt spoke again.

"You'd have made a great mom."

Unable to stop herself, Terri gasped at the unexpected comment, feeling that pang of deep sorrow that overcame her every time she allowed herself to remember the hysterical pregnancy that had led her to such desperate and doomed measures last year.

Hearing the shocked sound, Kurt backed away from her, right hand clapping over his mouth as his cheeks flamed red. "I'm sorry!" he apologized. "I shouldn't have said that. I forgot."

Realizing that Kurt, and probably all the rest of his fellow Glee kids, were aware of the circumstances behind her and Will splitting up – probably inevitable what with Quinn Fabray being part of that group – Terri's cheeks turned equally red.

Still fumbling in the face of her awkward silence, Kurt tried again, "I just . . . I meant that you're really nice, and I like hanging out with you, and that sitting with you and listening to you read and all, kind of reminded me of a long time ago when my mother was still alive. She used to read me books all the time."

"Not the same kind of books, I assume," she teased, wanting to reassure him that he had not done anything wrong. Wanting to erase that dismayed expression and see him smile again.

Much to Terri's pleasure, the boy laughed. "Definitely not. I think 'Green Eggs and Ham' was more my speed back then." He sobered again, reaching out to clasp her hand. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I didn't mean to."

"I know that," she said, a genuine smile blooming. The comment still hurt a little, but it was also unexpectedly reassuring to know that an injured boy, one who was in many ways a child still in need of love and care, had found her maternal side satisfactory. "In fact, you should know that I would have been very happy if the child Will and I wanted had turned out to be anything like you."

He ducked his head, embarrassed but clearly pleased. "Really?"

"Absolutely."

Both of them jumped when a vigorous knock suddenly sounded at the front door.

Kurt instantly perked up. "Maybe that's my dad!"

His eyes were so bright and hopeful that they brought a pang of bittersweet pain to Terri's heart. She had not even realized how lonely her life had become until today's unexpected event and it saddened her to realize that it would soon be at an end.

Secretly hoping that the visitor might turn out to be someone else, and feeling guilty for it, she rose. "I'll just go see who it is."

Another impatient knock sounded and Terri hurried to answer. "I'm coming!" she called out, a bit more sharply than necessary. When she opened the door, she frowned a little at the tall, stocky stranger wearing a snow-covered tan coat and a cap with ear-flaps whom she found on the other side. "Yes?"

Before he could answer, a joyful cry of, "Dad!" identified the visitor.

A beaming smile of relief instantly broke over the man's anxious features, making Terri feel even guiltier for her momentary lack of enthusiasm. "Oh, Mr. Hummel!" she cried out in feigned surprise. "I didn't realize. Please, come in!"

He pushed past her, barely waiting for the words to clear her lips. Kurt jumped up from the sofa, then abruptly turned ghost-pale and plopped back down again, squeezing his eyes shut against what looked like the mother of all dizzy-spells.

Burt Hummel turned a little pale as well. "Kurt!" Terri grabbed his arm, stopping his forward progress, and the man looked at her with rage in his blue eyes. "What the hell?"

"Sorry, it's just . . . he's been a little sick off and on today. I didn't want you to walk right into the line of fire if it happened again."

The worried father shook her off easily, uncaring of such a trifling danger as he moved to the sofa and sat down next to his son. He reached out, brushing his fingers through Kurt's messy brown hair with such tenderness that it melted Terri's heart. "Hey, buddy. You doin' okay?"

Kurt had taken an iron grip on the sofa cushion, clutching it with both hands as his throat convulsed in an effort to keep his stomach from erupting again.

"Deep breaths," his dad coached, fingers continuing their soothing stroke up and down the back of Kurt's head. "Nice and slow, through your nose. Just take it easy and breathe."

The boy obeyed and in a few seconds he had regained control of himself and his clenched eyelids fluttered open again.

"Dad," he breathed, such relief and happiness and love in that single word that tears welled up in both adults' eyes. Kurt abruptly threw his arms around his father's sturdy body, not caring one bit that the man was cold and damp with melting snow. He rested his head against that familiar broad shoulder and sighed, utter contentment filling his face as his father's arms wrapped around him in turn, holding him close.

"I was so worried about you, son. I didn't know where you were or what happened to you. Just knew that you were hurt. I found your truck, saw the blood . . . it about killed me." Burt pushed Kurt back a few inches, blinking against tears as he traced the bandage over his left eye and gently examined his bruised and wind-burned face.

"Don't cry, Dad," Kurt told him, brushing an errant tear off his father's cheek. "I'm okay now. Mrs. Shue took really good care of me. I'm fine."

Reminded that they were not alone, Burt turned to face the observing Terri. "Fine?" he said sharply. "What I saw a second ago sure as hell didn't look like fine. He tried to stand up and damn near fainted! Why didn't you take him to a hospital or call for an ambulance? He's got a head wound! He could have dropped dead in your living room and I never would have. . ."

The words choked off and Terri covered her mouth. "Oh! I know! I'm sorry! The phone was cutting out and I didn't know what to do, and I couldn't just leave him out in the storm, and I called Will and I tried to leave you a message but nobody answered, then the phone went dead completely! And he was confused and sick, and I was busy trying to help and, and, and . . . I'm sorry!"

She burst into tears, wrung out by the weather and the worry and the angry accusations that hit so close to the words she had been berating herself with internally all afternoon long.

"Dad!" Kurt cried out, startling his father with a hard, scolding punch to the shoulder. "What's the matter with you? She helped me!"

Burt looked from the weeping woman to his very much alive, and clearly outraged, son and his shoulders slumped.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me, saying a thing like that when I really ought to be thanking you." He stood, abandoning his hold on Kurt with visible reluctance as he crossed to her side and awkwardly patted Terri's arm. "Seriously, thanks. It's a total mess out there. God only knows what might have happened if you'd tried to drive to the hospital from where you started, and it's probably better that you got my boy in out of the cold. Looks like you cleaned him up pretty good, too. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I overreacted just now and I'm sorry. It's just . . . it's been a hell of a day, y'know?"

To his obvious surprise, and her own, Terri laughed. "Tell me about it!"

**Chapter 7:**

Kurt managed to lever himself to his feet but still wove a little as he moved over to join the two adults.

His father frowned, clearly concerned with the show of instability. "I think we'd better head over to the hospital and get you checked out before we go home," he said, staring at Kurt so intently that the boy squirmed in reaction.

"Do we have to?" Kurt groaned, leaning into the embracing arm that immediately wrapped around his shoulders. "You know all they'll do is make us sit in a waiting room forever, then ask me if I've been sick or dizzy today. When I say yes, they'll tell you that you should take me home, put me to bed and watch me closely for the next 24 to 48 hours for any signs of confusion or disorientation. What's the point?"

The way he rattled off the instructions in a bored, rote manner made Terri frown. "Does this kind of thing happen to you a lot?" she asked, addressing the question to Kurt but looking to his father for confirmation. "Earlier you told me that blood was almost impossible to get out of dress shirts and that bruising would fade in a few days."

She was glaring suspiciously at Burt, who glared back with a mixture of exasperation and irritation. "Don't even go there," he said shortly. "The poor kid gets bullied a lot."

"Why? Is it because he . . . likes romance novels?" she said carefully, not quite sure whether she should say the actual word in front of Kurt's very obviously blue-collar dad.

Burt looked a bit pained by her choice of words. "If that's some kind of weird new euphemism for bein' gay, then yeah, that's why."

"I'm gay, I'm a proud member of the least popular club in school, I'm about 50 IQ points smarter than the smartest one of them and I wear clothes made by designers most of them can't even pronounce," Kurt corrected; a trace of unmistakable smugness in his tone. "Take your pick."

Burt chuckled at his assessment and Terri felt great relief. It had seemed very unlikely that Kurt would be so happy to see a parent who did not treat him well, but she had felt the need to check. Over the course of just a few hours, she had started experiencing a strange protectiveness toward this very unusual teenager.

"I know how much you hate hospitals," Burt told his son, his steady gaze filled with both authority and a touch of pleading, "but I'd feel a hell of a lot better about things if you saw a doctor. Even if all they do is tell you to go home and rest."

"But then we'll have to fight our way home through the snow, in the dark and it'll be, like, midnight before I can actually sleep."

The whining was getting stronger with every word and Burt smiled as he hugged Kurt a little bit closer and kissed his bruised temple, not caring at all that the tender gesture drew a reflexive scowl from the teenager due to its undignified nature. "You're pretty worn out, aren't you?"

Kurt did not even try to deny it, nodding tiredly.

"Do it for your dad," Terri chimed in, sensing that Burt was teetering on the edge of giving in to Kurt's obvious exhaustion. Brushing her fingers over Kurt's jaw in a tender gesture that immediately eased its stubborn clenching, she added, "And for me. I'm really very worried about you, and I know that Will is worried, too."

"And Mercedes, Finn, Carole, Jesse . . . probably all the rest of your friends by now, too," Burt added, mercilessly heaping on the guilt. "They're all expecting an update. Are Mrs. Schuester and I supposed to tell everyone that you were too stubborn to see a doctor? They'll all think that we took really crappy care of you."

Kurt groaned, thumping his forehead against his father's shoulder. "God, okay fine, I'll go! Just stop, already!"

"That's my boy," Burt said with a chuckle, pale eyes shining with amusement as he nodded thanks to Terri over his son's shoulder. "It'll be over before you know it, and then we'll go home and you can sleep all you want to."

Terri returned his smile, feeling a warm moment of kinship. She studied Burt's face thoughtfully. He was a little rough around the edges, but seemed intelligent and kind; and he was really quite handsome. Not like Will, but definitely nice-looking in his own way. He was obviously an excellent father. Loving, accepting, clearly adored by his only son. He owned his own successful business and was anything but stingy with his money if Kurt's clothes and vehicle were anything to judge by.

A lonely and attractive widower, mature but far from old, with an almost grown child whom any woman might count herself lucky to have for a step-son . . .

A crinkle of confusion knit Burt's eyebrows as Terri continued to stare at him, a strange, mesmerized look in her huge blue eyes. Loosening his grip on Kurt, Burt took his hat off, wringing the cap between his hands in an instinctively nervous gesture.

As he did so, Terri gasped. She backed up a step, suddenly feeling as though a bucket of ice water had been thrown over her head, bringing her back to reality with an unpleasant shock. Her momentary fantasy burst like a fragile soap bubble.

Burt Hummel was bald!

"So, uh, I guess we'd better get out of your hair," Burt said, nearly causing an insane shriek of laughter to burst out of Terri's mouth. "I want to get Kurt looked at right away. Thanks again for all you did for him today."

Kurt smiled, echoing the sentiment. "You were really amazing."

The disappointment she had been experiencing faded, replaced by a feeling of tender regret. "I'm glad I could help. I'm sorry the circumstances weren't better but I really enjoyed having you here today."

"Maybe I could call you and we could go to the mall or something. I'll take you shopping for some new boots," he offered shyly. Then, he blushed. "Or does hanging out with a teenager sound dumb?"

"I don't think it sounds dumb at all," she told him with a smile, the warm contented feeling she had experienced while they cuddled on the sofa together returning all at once. "I've never really believed that friendship had anything to do with age."

Happiness brightened his eyes, removing some of the tiredness from their depths. "Me either."

Burt smiled at them both, reaching into the pocket of his coat. "That reminds me; I found your phone and the rest of your stuff in the SUV. Here," he said, handing the item to Kurt, who looked overjoyed to have it back.

Quickly, Kurt added a contact and had Terri punch in her phone number. He grinned at her. "There, now we're all set. I'll call you when the snow clears and we can go to the mall whenever you want."

"I'm already looking forward to it."

He looked pleased. "Me, too."

"And just think of the good you'll do my reputation when I tell everyone that I have a shopping date with a handsome younger man."

Both Hummels laughed at the light teasing. Then, Kurt startled Terri by stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her. "Thank you for everything, Mrs. Shue. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't come along."

She hugged him back tightly. "I don't even want to think about it. You take good care of yourself, sweetie."

A few minutes later, bundled back into his coat, scarf and damp sneakers, his damaged clothes securely packed in a plastic sack, Kurt gave Terri a little wave as he stepped out of her apartment with his grateful father's arm once again securely supporting him.

Terri watched until the elevator doors were securely shut behind them before closing her apartment door. She returned to the sofa and curled up in the blanket, watching the softly falling snow and feeling a mixture of regret, satisfaction, happiness and concern, all mixed together with a little ache of loneliness.

Checking her phone display, she was surprised to notice that she had a few bars of available service again. She studied the empty readout for several long moments, and then dialed a familiar number.

"Hi, Will. It's Terri . . ."

**Chapter 8:**

The staff of Lima Memorial, contrary to Kurt's expectation, insisted on giving him a skull X-ray and CAT scan after learning that he had been bleeding, dizzy, nauseous and confused following his accident. Fortunately, the tests came back with the diagnosis of a moderate concussion; no skull fracture or traumatic brain injury. They re-bandaged his hands and knees and decided that the wound over his eyebrow could do with a couple of stitches, but after that, Burt was indeed instructed to take his son home, let him sleep and just keep watch for signs of further distress.

Kurt occupied himself with his phone for most of their slow crawl towards home, returning texts and reassuring everyone that he was alive and – more or less – well. Upon reaching their destination, Burt helped him inside, not wanting to take any chances on him slipping and falling on the icy sidewalk or front steps.

It was a testament to just how exhausted Kurt was that he did not protest, even a little, over being babied. Instead, he just allowed his father to escort him down the steps to his own room, where he wrapped his arms around Burt's neck and silently hugged him for a long time. Burt returned the firm embrace gratefully, realizing that he was not the only one who had been worried.

"Think I'm gonna head for bed now," Kurt murmured as he finally released his grip.

He could barely keep his eyes open and Burt smiled, brushing tumbled bangs out of the boy's eyes. "You want any of your face goop first?"

Kurt shook his head. Touching one cheek, he winced. "No, the analgesic cream they gave me at the hospital is keeping most of the stinging down. Still feels kind of like I got sunburned but it's not bad. I'd rather not mess with it until morning. The headache is finally starting to die down, too. I'd really rather just sleep than do anything else."

"I don't blame you. You need any help?"

Looking a little embarrassed, he asked, "Would you mind? I'm kind of sore."

He did not mind a bit. A few minutes later, dressed in warm PJs and tucked securely beneath a mountain of fluffy blankets, Kurt was sound asleep. He had not even lasted long enough to say good night.

Burt stayed by his side for several minutes, just watching his boy sleep and thanking his lucky stars that he had been given the chance to do so.

He thought about Terri Schuester and shook his head. What a small world it was. Lima was not a big city but it did have enough of a population that it had to be some kind of miracle that Kurt had been discovered by a friend of a friend in his time of need; one who had done all she could to keep the boy safe and happy until help could arrive. He felt bad for yelling at her.

Burt smiled, remembering Kurt's very embarrassed confession as to the reason behind his offer to take the woman boot-shopping. There wasn't much Burt could do to show his gratitude but he decided that the ol' Platinum Visa – the one he had forbidden Kurt to touch after the boy had come home one day with a single sweater that cost enough to feed a family of ten for a week – was going to get a hearty workout on that promised mall date.

Maybe he'd tag along – he could always kill an afternoon at the electronics and sporting goods stores - and invite Schuester and Mercedes to have dinner with them afterward. After all, he owed them all big time. It was the least he could do.

Almost as if he had heard his father's thoughts, Kurt drew a deep breath and let it out in a long, contented-sounding sigh as he snuggled deeper into his pillow.

Burt gently stroked his colorfully bruised cheekbone.

Yeah, the very least he could do.

**EPILOGUE**

It was horrifying and fascinating; like watching two powerful jets criss-crossing through the sky, nearly colliding time and again, only to spin apart at the last possible moment, resulting in a perfect display of control and finesse that would leave the audience breathless with wonder.

Burt sat on the bleachers – actually a bench just outside the playing field – and munched his way through a box of popcorn he had picked up at the food court as he watched the game. His son Kurt and Kurt's new friend and shopping partner, Terri Schuester, flitted and danced their way through row upon row of boots and shoes.

Squeals of excitement, exclamations of disgust, and occasional flailing and cooing over a particularly great find – totally embarrassing when one of the two was your own teenaged son – allowed Burt to follow the action. He was a little iffy on the rules, but he was pretty sure he had the Stats straight. Terri had been in the lead for a half hour after she had picked out a pair of "darling" pink, peep-toed, high-heeled shoes, but then Kurt had taken the top spot with the discovery of a pair of deep green suede Flamenco boots that had nearly sent the kid into hysterics.

The selections had all started looking alike to Burt more than an hour ago, but saying so had only resulted in a pair of gazes filled with such horror that he might as well have suggested that they all strip naked and dance the hula. He had retreated to his place of safety after that, content to watch and take silent bets with himself as to which of the salespeople assisting the two shoppers would go stark, raving bonkers first.

After another twenty minutes, Burt checked his watch and smiled. "Ten minute warning, shoppers!" he called out, tapping the crystal when they both looked up with startled eyes. "We told Mercedes and Will that we'd meet them at the restaurant at 7:00. That's half an hour and we don't want to keep them waiting."

Kurt looked honestly surprised. "Really? I would have sworn we'd only been here for about an hour."

"Try three," he said wryly. "And I'm sure that whimpering sound I've been hearing for the last 90 minutes has been coming from my credit card. Wrap it up, you two."

He struggled not to laugh when two pairs of sad blue eyes met across a display rack full of "designer" sneakers and twin sighs gusted over their lips. Terri Schuester had turned out to be a pretty nice lady but somehow she seemed more like one of Kurt's other teen girl-friends than a grown woman.

Somehow, the two super-shoppers managed to narrow their selections and agree on three pairs of shoes apiece within the allotted time span. Burt's eyes bugged out a little when he saw the amount that came up on the cash register but he bit his tongue and signed the charge slip without a word of complaint.

Between the shoes and the clothing spree Kurt had talked him into funding earlier, it was gonna be awhile before he did any splurging of his own. Judging by the individual totals, Terri had won the competition by a nose.

He watched the two of them grin with excitement as they peeked inside each other's shopping bags for one more look at their treasures, so filled with delight that Burt could not bring himself to resent the large bite they had just taken out of his bank account.

"All right, let's get this stuff out to the truck," he ordered, herding the two of them out of the store.

"I thought you'd be grouchy all evening after a trip like this one," Kurt commented as they exited the mall and automatically took deep breaths of the cold winter air as the made their way to Burt's truck. Terri, who had driven herself, was chattering animatedly into her cell and paying them no attention. The grass was still snowy in patches, but the sidewalks were completely clear after a precipitation-free week, the snowstorm that had trapped Kurt at Terri Schuester's apartment building now nothing but a dim memory for everyone. Kurt's bruises and scrapes had faded, but he was still experiencing occasional dizzy spells when he stood too quickly, and as a result, Burt had been keeping a close eye on him. "What are you smiling about?"

Burt chuckled. "You won't like it."

Cocking his head, Kurt frowned suspiciously. "Tell me anyway."

"Watching you in all those stores today reminded me of taking you along on shopping trips when you were just a little guy. Your mom and I had so much trouble keeping you from wandering away to look at all the pretty, shiny things in the stores that we eventually had to buy one of those little-kid harness and leash things."

Kurt looked absolutely mortified. "You didn't!"

"Had to. I tried just picking you up and carrying you, but you screamed and made such a fuss that I had to try something else just to keep my eardrums intact."

"Oh, my God."

Burt laughed. "Relax, kid. You were two! Everybody thought it was adorable. You'd think so too if you could've seen yourself."

"There aren't any photographs of that, are there?" he asked, clearly horrified by the thought.

Burt averted his gaze, pretending interest in the shining stars overhead. "Looks like a beautiful night tonight."

The teenager groaned. "When we get home, I am going through every single album and box of photos in the house and burning those pictures."

"No, you're not," he countered calmly. "Besides, I've got worse."

A nervous expression flickered in Kurt's eyes. "How much worse?"

"Let's just say that I'm prepared in case you and your future . . . whatever you call him . . . ever decide to give me some grandchildren."

Kurt moaned dramatically. "I wonder what monks do for fun…"

A hearty peal of laughter burst from Burt's lips and he gave his wryly grinning son a one-armed hug. "Forget it, kid. You'd never survive the dress code."

Kurt laughed too. "Probably not." After a moment, he said, "Dad? Seriously, you were awesome today. Not just about buying all these things, but about everything. I know you don't like shopping and that you think Mrs. Shue is kind of weird. Oh, don't look at me that way. I see it in your face every time you look at her. But it's nice of you to give her a chance for my sake."

He smiled. "Hey, I owed her one. A big one; and a Hummel never shirks a debt. Besides, you like her and that's good enough for me."

"And Mr. Shue?" he asked curiously. "Are you sure you're ready for dinner with a recently divorced couple; neither of whom you actually like very much?"

Burt sighed deeply. Sometimes his son was entirely too perceptive for Burt's taste. "Hey, it's one dinner, and I trust you and Mercedes to mediate if things get out of hand, okay?"

Kurt smiled, nudging him with an elbow. "Deal." They reached the truck and put all of the shopping bags inside. As the back door shut, Kurt briefly gave his father's arm a squeeze. "Thanks, Dad."

"Any time, son."

**THE END**


End file.
